Untitled Mind

This is an overwritten piece I did for school, but I thought it was good enough to post, even though overwritten and wordy at parts.

He had always lived up until this moment with a perpetual doubt in his mind, that sang with a sweet but torturously haunting voice his worries and fears that left him deprived of the rest of his day as soon as he heard it interrupt the smooth, simple flow of which he carried out his day. It was the sweet, melodic voice that would have led to his complete internal destruction if this moment, this awkward intermission hadn’t come.

“When she dies,” the voice would whisper, “her absence will be my invitation. Her funeral will bring me welcome to you.” Then it would chuckle, and the laugh was as hard to persevere and withstand as anything it would say.

Then it came.

The moment was only seconds long, but in his mind, proclaimed near insane by people who knew him, the instant seemed to intercept the natural flow of time and freeze into a digital enigma only he could move in.

He and his beloved, whom he had sworn to protect, were standing on the edge of the interstate highway. He was drowning in her eyes and inhaling her hair and the scent that seemed to dissolve in his lungs when it happened.

The light was the first thing he saw behind her, and then the sound barrier seemed to shatter as he heard two cars slam into each other with a destined beauty only he seemed to notice.

Time slowed before his very eyes as he witness the truth that stood before him. His beloved turned parallel to the car that had been hit, and then tried to run out of the way of whatever debris may have been flying towards them. He watched the world before him as it moved in slow motion and as there was no more sound- only vision. Like a magnetic prison, his beloved was pulled toward the car by some unnatural force.

He tried to push with his mind-with all telekinetic force he knew he had- but all that was returned in his favor was a mouthed scream and an outreached hand imprisoned in silence.

He saw her die instantly, and saw his life be depleted before him. He did not need an interpreter to know that in some language foreign to him he had understood the words she had paraphrased before her untimely death.

“Welcome.”

He opened his eyes and found he was now in a blank white room, accompanied by a person standing across the room, facing him.

where is she, he asked.

The figure grinned at him. “She’s gone,” the figure said. He felt like crying but couldn’t, like his hear had been punctured by an external source he could not kill.

where is the door? he asked.

The person in white replied, “There is no door.”

who are you?

The person in white laughed. “Who are YOU?”

i…

His eyes widened upon realization.

i don’t know.

The person in white grinned and looked at the floor. “Exactly.

“Are you speaking right now, truly?”

He realized he wasn’t really speaking, only producing whatever progressive cognitive thought he could think to say with his mind.

who am i?

“You have failed. You swore to protect her and you did not succeed… but it wasn’t your fault. Destiny had to run its course.” The man in white bit his nail timidly. “I told you one day I’d meet you.”

what?

And then it spoke in that evil childish voice he had heard so many times before. “Welcome.”

He couldn’t scream.

“It’s okay, No Name. You’re meant to see me.”

no! He stumbled back.

Then he saw a change-a digital transparency he never expected before. He saw the negatives and a strange mathematical odyssey foreign to him- nothing he had predicted in his days of haunting.

“I’m here to tell you something,” the digital being scrambled. “How much do you perceive to be reality? How much do you think is fake?”

get away!

“What you see does not happen! I am a figment of your imagination!”

His vision started to fade.

“You see nothing real! You are fake!”

He thought about setting off the fires in the factory.

He thought about not even remembering his parents…or even having parents.

He thought about not remembering his childhood.

He thought about not even knowing his name.

He thought about the interview.

“Solitude is what kills the paramedic. No one to heal.”

And finally, he screamed, so shrilling and so loudly it broke everything he saw and shattered the room he saw. He had barely enough time to wonder if that had been the first sound he had ever made.

Not communication; sound.

When No Name opened his eyes he was back on the interstate. She was gone. The fluorescent light from his electric watch lit 3:23 AM. It was dark outside.

He swallowed the morphine the next day.

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